


Witness Me in a Pit of Fire

by pastelaliens



Category: Grandmaster of Demonic Cultivation, Mo Dao Zu Shi, 魔道祖师 - 墨香铜臭 | Módào Zǔshī - Mòxiāng Tóngxiù
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, Drama, M/M, Politics, Romance, if you squint it's inspired by kuroshitsuji, just without the demon stuff
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-16
Updated: 2019-12-16
Packaged: 2021-02-26 00:46:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,896
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21814633
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pastelaliens/pseuds/pastelaliens
Summary: When Lotus Pier, home of the powerful political family the Jiangs, is burned to the ground, its surviving ward Wei Wuxian and his butler Lan Wangji carve a bloody trail of revenge to the man responsible: Wen Ruohan, a longtime political rival.
Relationships: Lán Zhàn | Lán Wàngjī/Wèi Yīng | Wèi Wúxiàn
Comments: 3
Kudos: 73
Collections: MXTX Reverse Big Bang 2019





	Witness Me in a Pit of Fire

When Wei Wuxian is but a child and his lungs are filled with smoke, he’s lifted into strong arms and held against a warm chest. It’s not the same— it’s not an embrace he recognizes— but he settles against it, looks up into a kind face with eyes wide and round. “Where’s Mommy and Daddy?” he asks, and to speak feels like swallowing hot coals.

The kind face shifts so very quickly into pain and then back again into that serene sweetness. “Your parents have asked me to take care of you,” Jiang Fengmian says. When he touches Wei Wuxian’s cheek, his hand comes back blackened. 

  


* * *

  


The long halls and endless rooms of the Jiang family estate have ever seemed so very lonely and empty to Wei Wuxian. All of this space, all of this excess, and for what? A family of five ( _ four _ , Madam Yu would insist when pressed, her gaze sliding down her own nose and falling onto Wei Wuxian beneath her) and all their countless retainers and servants and staff. Too much room for so few people. Gone are the years when the sounds of children echoed in the corridors; they’ve grown too old for that, now, mere teenagers but trying to fill shoes too big for their feet. They expect much of themselves; much is expected of them. 

Wei Wuxian and Jiang Cheng are asked to the study. They exchange looks silently on the way, Wei Wuxian’s glance sharpened with teasing, Jiang Cheng’s clipped with warning.  _ Don’t misbehave _ , that look says, and Wei Wuxian, without saying a word, makes clear that he can’t promise anything. 

Jiang Fengmian’s study is a strangely sacred place, serene and warm but infrequently visited by anyone less than an important guest. When the two young men enter, the important guests have already arrived, all three of them dressed in crisp suits impeccably tailored and wholly without personality— but what their fashion lacks, their faces more than make up for in beauty. All three are cut from the same cloth, one elder and two younger, and for a brief and wild moment Wei Wuxian thinks they may steal the fairness from all the things around them, because in comparison the rest of the room seems dull. 

Two have eyes that are warm and brown like the earth but the third, whose gaze slides toward Wei Wuxian as he enters, has eyes like gold. They must have been mined from far underground, so deep they seem, and Wei Wuxian can do nothing but marvel at their glittering until he feels an elbow collide with his side. It belongs on Jiang Cheng, of course, who is staring forward at his father and hanging on his every word.

Jiang Fengmian smiles obligingly and then starts over in addressing Wei Wuxian and Jiang Cheng, now that he has everyone’s attention. “Boys, this is Lan Qiren and his nephews, Lan Xichen—” One of the two young men, the one with the kinder face, bows his head. “—and Lan Wangji.” This is the one with the eyes like gold and the face like marble, flawless and untouched. Wei Wuxian’s fingers itch to do so simply for the sake of being the first. “They have been brought on to be your butlers.”

“Butlers?” Jiang Cheng echoes, his brows lifting.

“For both of us?” Wei Wuxian adds, eyes wide.

“Butlers for both of you,” Jiang Fengmian confirms, a laugh in his voice. “I don’t have to tell you that my work is dangerous, and if my son is going to follow in my footsteps—” A pointed look at Jiang Cheng. “—and you, Wei Wuxian, are going to stay by his side, you both need protection. And that is the specialty of the Lan clan.” With one hand, Jiang Fengmian gestures toward Lan Qiren, who nods and turns toward the boys.

“My nephews have been trained since a young age to serve,” he begins, and something about his voice, the way it drones, immediately sets Wei Wuxian’s mind to wandering. The old man reminds him of any number of his tutors, all of which are insufferably boring. Why listen, anyway, when we can look again at Lan Wangji, whose gaze flickers to meet his. A grin begins to grow on his face and he enjoys the startled sort of curiosity it inspires in Lan Wangji’s expression. Having to live with Lan Qiren, Wei Wuxian doubts Lan Wangji’s had much reason to smile. Perhaps he’s never seen one before.

“...Lan Xichen will attend to you, Jiang Cheng, and Lan Wangji will attend to Wei Wuxian.” At the sound of his name, Wei Wuxian looks over at Lan Qiren, who is giving him a look he certainly recognizes; that his lack of attention has been found out. “You will spend many years together,” the old man continues, “and I hope you’ll find nothing lacking in their service to you.” 

Jiang Fengmian stands from behind his desk and holds out his hand, which Lan Qiren takes. “If the reputation of their uncle has even an ounce of truth,” he says, “I have no doubt their service will be of the highest possible caliber.” The two men shake hands before Jiang Fengmian turns to the others. “Boys, perhaps you can show Lan Xichen and Lan Wangji their new home.” They are effectively dismissed and file out of the study in a line, Jiang Cheng leading the pack and Wei Wuxian behind him.

He leans forward and whispers into Jiang Cheng’s ear. “I almost fell asleep standing up when the old man was lecturing us,” he says. “Did I miss anything important?”

The long-suffering sigh from Jiang Cheng is as familiar to Wei Wuxian as the call of his own name. “Those two are fast and strong and capable and are going to protect us from now on. That’s about it.” 

Wei Wuxian glances over his shoulder at the Lan brothers, who trail after them with light footsteps. “I wonder what Madam Yu thinks about each of us getting a butler,” he mutters, more to himself than to Jiang Cheng. There’s a sigh again in response, but this time it’s less impatient, more resigned. “Probably isn’t going to be happy,” Wei Wuxian agrees with Jiang Cheng’s wordless answer. It’s a hurdle he’s had to jump before, though, so he can do it again and again. And he’ll have to.

The two groups part ways, Jiang Cheng taking Lan Xichen to one side of the mansion and Wei Wuxian leading Lan Wangji to the other. Thus far, Wei Wuxian hasn’t heard a single word from Lan Wangji. His brother had spoken a few, voice gentle and warm, and Wei Wuxian wonders if Lan Wangji’s voice is quite the same. “So,” he says as they walk, turning to look at his butler, who insists on walking a few steps behind, “did they tell you all about me before you came here? Do you know the person you’re meant to serve now?”

He likes the way Lan Wangji takes a moment to consider his answer. Something about the way he can see the wheels turning in that pretty head charms him. “You are Wei Wuxian,” comes the answer, and Lan Wangji’s voice isn’t quite as warm as his brother’s but still gentle, still sweet. “You are the ward of Jiang Fengmian, whose political ambitions have made him enemies. I am to protect you should any of those enemies make an attempt on your life in defiance of Jiang Fengmian.” 

The grin that pulls at the corners of his mouth comes unbidden and easy. “Sounds like you’re reciting that from a book. How do you feel about it? Do you wish you got to serve the son instead of the ward?”

Lan Wangji’s brows draw together just slightly. “No,” he says simply. 

“No?” Wei Wuxian echoes. His footsteps have slowed; he’s turned around, walking backwards down the long corridor so he can face Lan Wangji as they speak. “Your pride isn’t hurt? Surely the stakes are higher and the rewards are greater if you get to protect someone like Jiang Cheng. But instead you’re stuck with me.”

The words may as well have been said in Madam Yu’s voice; they’re her thoughts spoken now from Wei Wuxian’s tongue, though he doesn’t quite realize it. Those golden eyes level on Wei Wuxian’s face and search those wide open features, the grin pulled taut, the eyes ever-glittering with mirth— and he seems to look past what’s there and see what’s underneath. 

“His life is no more important than yours,” Lan Wangji says. He states it starkly, as a known truth. “Except to me— your life is what matters most. It is the thing I must protect above all else.” 

Wei Wuxian slows to a stop, the edges of his grin softening. There’s a fluttering in his chest, unfamiliar and strange, and he stares at Lan Wangji as if he’s never seen anything quite like him. And, truly, he hasn’t. He swallows hard, once, and then says, “Even above yourself?”

The question seems to confuse him. “Yes,” Lan Wangji say, matter-of-fact. “That is what it means to be a butler.”

There is a moment of rare silence in which Wei Wuxian stares into those eyes deep as a mine, deep as the ocean and just as unfathomable. The smile is gone now, its absence a thing even rarer than silence, and when he speaks again it’s with uncharacteristic seriousness. “I would never ask that of you,” he says, “to sacrifice your life for mine.”

Quiet suits Lan Wangji better than it does Wei Wuxian; his stillness is a beautiful thing, like a calm river, and Wei Wuxian appreciates it as much as he wants to be what makes it ripple. There’s no one better at throwing rocks than him. But soon, Lan Wangji says, “You wouldn’t have to ask.” There— the slightest tilt of his head— the way his hair moves against his neck— Wei Wuxian would like to think himself responsible. “It simply must be.”

Never has Wei Wuxian met anyone who’s fascinated him so completely. “I guess we’ll see about that,” he says, and it feels almost like a threat. Turning from Lan Wangji is a challenge but Wei Wuxian manages it; he begins walking down the hallway again, lifts a hand to beckon his butler. “There’s a lot I need to show you still. Follow me.”

Behind him, Lan Wangji says, “Yes, Young Master,” and takes his place as Wei Wuxian’s back.

  


* * *

  


Lan Wangji trails him like a shadow, all black except the flashing white of his gloved hands and pale face turning toward him, emerging from a dark curtain of hair. How tempting, the long full of his hair; it begs for fingers to push through it and oftentimes Wei Wuxian wonders after the softness of it. Surely it must be silky smooth to the touch, perfect and well-kept like the rest of him. Perhaps it’s time he finds out.

Wei Wuxian closes the book in his hand. Not a page had turned since his daydreaming had begun— but how could he be expected to concentrate on reading when he has something far more interesting at hand? “Lan Zhan,” he calls, and already there’s that sticky edge of teasing to his voice that’s so very difficult to avoid getting stuck in, especially for Lan Wangji who, by all rights, must endure every one of Wei Wuxian’s whims. 

“Yes, Young Master,” comes the reply, so reserved, so cautious. The butler must be good at detecting danger when it’s near. Perhaps it’s part of his extensive training at the Cloud Recesses under that old man, Lan Qiren. 

Always poised and ready to serve, Lan Wangji stands just behind his young master’s chair, at his right. Wei Wuxian twists in his seat to look at him, the beginnings of a smile sneaking into the corners of his mouth. He lifts his hand and crooks his finger. “Can you come a little bit closer?”

These are the moments Wei Wuxian lives for— his sharp eyes catch the way the muscles of Lan Wangji’s jaw move as he clenches his teeth. He’s been in the service of Wei Wuxian for a few years now so more and more he lets these things slip. Still, he is ever the dutiful butler; he steps forward, footfalls light as a feather, and stops there are Wei Wuxian’s elbow, ready to receive any other orders that might be given to him. 

Wei Wuxian only has one more. “Lean down here,” he says. And when Lan Wangji does, as expected of him, Wei Wuxian reaches out and slides his fingertips over the hair that fell in a sheet over Lan Wangji’s shoulder, like a musician would sweep a hand over wind chimes. No music fills the air but Wei Wuxian imagines he can hear it, and that at least will explain the goosebumps that rise on his skin at so simple a touch. 

It’s softer, even, than he’d imagined. 

Lan Wangji doesn’t have to speak to convey his discontent; the way his body stiffens and his eyes slide to rest on Wei Wuxian’s face is quite enough. Still, Wei Wuxian beams under the attention, always able to thrive beneath a gaze no matter its connotation. “Do all butlers have such pretty hair,” he asks, “or is it just you and your brother who do?” He doesn’t expect an answer and he doesn’t receive one— so he continues speaking, filling the silence as only he can, without a care for the necessity, sometimes, of quiet. “I’ve always thought— isn’t it the duty of a butler to blend into the background?” There’s an exaggeratedly thoughtful expression on his face as he turns his head so he can look up at Lan Wangji. “How can they expect someone who looks like you to manage that?”

Wei Wuxian almost finds the mercy within himself to pull away— but before he can, something catches his eye. He almost misses it behind the hair that so captured his attention, but there it is: Lan Wangji’s ear turning a sweet pink in embarrassment, all from Wei Wuxian’s words. His smile appears at its full wattage, a blinding thing, and he lifts his hand again, this time to take that soft earlobe between his thumb and forefinger so he can feel the heat of that blush. It warms him right to his core, even if he doesn’t quite understand why. 

This contact is where Lan Wangji finally draws the line. He straightens, suddenly, pulls away from Wei Wuxian’s touch, stands straight as steel and stares ahead, his face turning to impassive marble. But now Wei Wuxian knows better. It’s his secret to keep, the flush that swept the curve of Lan Wangji’s ear, and keep it he will— all for himself. 

  


* * *

  


Wei Wuxian dreams of a face much like his only older, glistening with sweat, covered in soot, eyes a little softer than his own like they’d never known the sharpness of mischief. The lips on that face move, but Wei Wuxian can’t hear the words being spoken. This man who looks so much like him reaches out, touches the fullness of his cheek, and then the touch disappears— and so does the man, into a place too bright for Wei Wuxian to see. He takes in a breath, perhaps to call out—

—and he wakes with a gasp that tears at his throat. The taste of smoke in his mouth is acrid, bitter, familiar, and he can see it creeping into his room from beneath the door. He kicks away his blankets, throws an arm over his mouth to keep from inhaling more of the toxic air than he already has, stumbles to the door and throws it open. Down the hallway is flickering light, licking flames burning their way through the corridors of Lotus Pier. Wei Wuxian stares at it until his eyes burn, until he has to close them. 

Suddenly, the press of fingers on his shoulders. He almost wrenches himself away as if it’s the fire that’s reached out to grab him, but he hears a voice and his coiled body releases some of its tension. “Young Master,” that voice says. “I’m here.” One of those hands drops to take his, holds tight, pulls Wei Wuxian down the hallway and away from the fire.When he opens his eyes, he sees Lan Wangji through the smoke, for once without his vest and tie, without his jacket, only the stark white of a shirt opened to reveal the pale skin of his chest. Deliriously, Wei Wuxian thinks he must be some heavenly being with the way he glows through the ash of Wei Wuxian’s entire life engulfed in flames. 

“The others—” His throat burns with the effort of speaking. “We need to get the others. Jiang Cheng—” 

Lan Wangji lets slip the briefest expression of worry, his brows drawing together, before the mask comes down again. “My elder brother will take care of him. My first concern is you.”

Panic seizes him and he pulls at the hand guiding him to safety, planting his feet. “No. I can’t leave without the others. I can’t abandon them. I can’t be the only one safe.” His voice is high and thin and it breaks upon his suddenly trembling lips. He thinks of that face again, the one so very much like his own. Not now— he shakes his head to be rid of it. 

“Young Master.”

Meeting those eyes, level and steady, brings Wei Wuxian closer to the earth. “You can’t ask me to leave them behind,” he says in a whisper. 

Lan Wangji’s gaze turns searching and beneath it Wei Wuxian feels open and exposed, vulnerable, transparent. He wants to beg but he knows such a thing won’t move Lan Wangji. 

But neither, apparently, did his simple plea. “I am sorry,” Lan Wangji says, and his grip around Wei Wuxian’s wrist goes vice-tight, unforgiving, unbreakable. His steps begin again and they’re so sure, so planted into the floor beneath them, that Wei Wuxian can do nothing to stop them. The endless corridors disappear behind them and at the first touch of fresh air, Wei Wuxian takes in short, gasping breaths, his lungs desperate. He falls to his knees in the gravel driveway at the side of his family’s mansion and then raises his head— to see that the fires of hell have risen from the ground to consume them all.

Lan Wangji stands silhouetted against the blaze, staring as one of the tall spires collapses into itself. Slowly, he turns to look at Wei Wuxian kneeling on the ground, and the look in his eyes is one Wei Wuxian thinks he’s seen before, in another life. 

“No,” he whispers. 

The distance between them disappears with two strides of Lan Wangji’s long legs. He goes to one knee in front of Wei Wuxian, bows his head to meet his gaze. “Young Master,” he says quietly, “I will go back in to find the others.” 

Wei Wuxian grabs at him, fingers finding the sleeves of his shirt and crumpling them into his fists. “You can’t. Lan Zhan, it’s too dangerous. You said your brother would take care of Jiang Cheng, didn’t you? And— and the others have surely made it out— haven’t they? Don’t—” 

“Young Master.” That voice is soft, as if in a goodbye. 

“I said  _ no _ !” The last word leaves him in almost a scream. “I’m your master and you have to obey me. You have to. That’s what you do as my butler, you follow my every order, and I’m  _ ordering _ you—” 

_ ”Wei Wuxian!” _

He is stunned to silence at the sound of his own name and his eyes go wide. He can only blink, his eyes burning from the smoke and with tears, as Lan Wangji lifts a gloved hand to gently touch the curve of his cheek. The panic in his chest reaches a tipping point, constricts his heart, starts a ringing in his ears so loud that when Lan Wangji speaks, he cannot hear. He can only watch those lips form the words and underneath the terror that renders his body useless, he feels an anger hotter than any flame that these words that were supposed to be his have been taken from him.

Again.

Lan Wangji lifts himself to his feet, turns away, and disappears into the fire. 

Wei Wuxian wills his legs to move but they do not. He tries his arms next— he’ll crawl if he has to— but they fail him, too. All he can do is crumple forward, his forehead pressed to the gravel underneath him, his chest rising and falling too fast with desperate breaths. He can’t reconcile these two images in his mind, one of the man that looks like him and one of Lan Wangji reaching out to touch him. His heart feels as though it’s trying to escape the confines of his chest and it’ll break open his ribs and hollow him out like this. 

He doesn’t know how long he stays there bowed and watering the ground with his tears. Through the haze of his fear, he feels a hand on his upper arm, fingertips pressing into the flesh there. “Lan Zhan?” he whispers, finally finding the strength to lift his head. The face that looms before him, though, is not one he recognizes. It’s not kind. It sneers in the face of his hope.

“Looks like one managed to get out,” he says. The voice is harsh, scathing. “We should bring him with us and see what the boss wants us to do with him.” 

On his other side, another hand grabs him in a bruising grip. “He’ll probably tell us we should have just killed him here, but fine. Get him into the car and let’s get out of here.” Wei Wuxian is hauled to his feet, his legs buckling underneath him. Still, he thrashes as well as he can, trying to free himself from his captors— but they’re strong, and they aren’t dizzied by smoke, and they aren’t being clawed at from the inside by some monstrous thing trying to get out. In this moment— in the very moment he needs strength the most— he is weak.

He’s thrown into the back of a car and the two men get into the front seat, the one behind the wheel bringing the engine to life. Desperation roars through him like the fire taking his home and in one bout of strength, he rears back and then kicks the window, the glass shattering to pieces at the force of it. He sits up, lunges for his escape— 

“He broke the Goddamn window!” the driver screams. The other man turns in his seat, reaches back and grabs Wei Wuxian by his collar, throwing him down onto the floor. Something hard and unyielding comes down on his head and the back of his eyelids are alight with sunbursts before the black begins to creep in, his consciousness slipping away. 

Through the broken window, over the sound of wheels skidding on gravel, before unconsciousness takes him, Wei Wuxian hears a voice. It breaks as it calls to him, and he wants so badly to smooth away that break with reassurance and hear it in a sweeter tone— 

_ “Wei Ying!” _

**Author's Note:**

> chapter two is coming after the holidays! xo thank you for reading
> 
> follow me on twit!! @paybackisawitch
> 
> and check out the artist i collabed with for the mxtx reverse bigbang and her piece of art here! https://twitter.com/byewenjun/status/1206464810063294464?s=20


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